


Random Lives

by badskippy



Series: Random Bagginshield [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fix-It, Humor, M/M, Reincarnation, gods being stupid, snarky humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THE PREQUEL TO RANDOM THOUGHTS - but should be read AFTER 'Random Thoughts'</p><p>Bilbo Baggins is a Hobbit.  Thorin Oakenshield is a Dwarf.   Yes, thank you, they are well aware of it!   Honestly, if Lord Mahal and his wife, Lady Yavanna don't their act together, Bilbo and Thorin are going to get REALLY pissed-off!   I mean, really, 67 and 1/2 lives is quite enough, thank you!</p><p>This is the prequel I NEVER intended to write, but ....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Random Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [Jennacorinth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennacorinth/gifts).



* * *

 

 

            Bilbo Baggins paced back and forth across the enormous circular room, huffing in exasperation now and then. The round hall was huge and spacious, but he was well aware that it was only an antechamber; a waiting room really. The entire place was made of polished black marble and around the curved wall there were three pairs of arched doorways; the first pair was at the six o’clock position, both were doorless but filled with thick vapor so that nothing could be seen beyond. They looked identical, but one was the entrance to this hall while the other lead back to the mortal world. The second pair was at the three o’clock position. These were the only ones containing doors; the one of left had doors of metal and gems, while the right one was made of glossy, polished wood and carved with a motif of leaves, vines, roses and animals. The third and last pair was positioned at the nine o’clock position and they, like the first two, were doorless, but one was filled with a blinding white light while the other was filled with the dim, warm glow of candlelight—not unpleasant but certainly somber. At the twelve o’clock position stood a tall, huge, black marble podium, a pulpit really, where the master of this hall would sit and judge the recently dead.

            But Bilbo took no notice of the hall he was in; he’d seen it far too many times, _thank you_ , for him to be impressed, awed, or what-have you. He was, however, far too aware of the passage of time; and it was pissing him off. He would love to look at a clock or pocket watch or wrist watch or something, _anything_ , just so he knew exactly how long he had been waiting, because it seemed like forever.

            FOR _EVER_!

            “Pacing won’t bring him here any sooner,” said a deep voice from the pulpit above him; with a tone that was so annoyingly amused it grated on the Hobbit’s nerves.

            “Yes,” Bilbo snarked, not slowing his pacing one iota, “I’m well aware of that, _thank you_.”

            “Than why do you do it?” the voice asked, even more amused.

            “Why do you _think_?” Bilbo replied irritated.

            “Because you are impatient.”

            “And why would I be impatient?”

            “Because you want your love here with you sooner rather than later.”

            “And that is because…?”

            “Because you do not care to be parted from him.”

            Bilbo stopped and turned, throwing Mandos, the Valar of the Dead, a smirk. “See, you really don’t need to ask why I pace, because you already know the answer.” Bilbo resumed his walking without waiting to see the expression on the God’s face, nor caring that the Valar laughed.

            Suddenly there was a rush of wind and Bilbo turned to see the mist that filled the entry portal part and Thorin, _his_ Thorin, walk through the vapor; a very disgruntled look upon his face.

            “You’re late,” Bilbo said, hands on his hips and looking like he wanted to stomp his foot.

            “My apologies,” Thorin said, sparing Mandos a glare before coming to stand before Bilbo.

            “What happened?” Bilbo demanded.

            “Those idiots almost brought me back!”

            “What?!”

            “Yes! Those morons continued to try and revive me, almost succeeded twice, but,” Thorin smiled smugly, “in the end they failed.”

            “Doctors,” Bilbo spat out with a shake of his head. “Always have to stick their noses in where they don’t belong!”

            Thorin shook his own head. “You’d think that when two people are hit by a semi-truck, head-on, they would know it a lost cause.”

            “Of course not,” Bilbo said with a sardonic smile. “That would mean they’d have to admit that aren’t the masters of life and death that they think they are!”

            Thorin reached out and place both hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, drawing them closer, together, and laying his forehead on his love’s; it calmed them both.

            “ _Sanâzyung_ ,” Thorin whispered.

            “Beloved,” Bilbo whispered back.

            “You are still a Hobbit.”

            “And you a Dwarf.”

            So consumed with each other, that neither Thorin nor Bilbo, noticed the silent opening of the doored portals and the arrival of two more Valar; one tall and lovely with long, rippling, honey-blond hair and sparkling eyes, and the other shorter, only coming to his lady’s shoulder, stocky but thickly muscled, his long hair pulled back into a tight plait and his long beard arranged in a multitude of small braids, each finished with claps and beads of every metal imaginable. The lady was dressed in a gown of flowing, sheer material that seemed to move and billow in a breeze, though there was none. The lord was naked from the waist up, only wearing a leather smithing apron, thick leather pants and heavy boots.

            “It didn’t work,” the Lady said in a defeated tone.

            While her Lord stated in the same defeated voice, “They’re still the same.”

            “WE’RE STILL THE SAME!” Thorin thundered as he pulled away from Bilbo and pointed a finger at his lord and maker.

            “Now, Thorin,” Lord Mahal tried to calm his child.

            “YOU BOTH PROMISED US!” Thorin bellowed.

            “We made no promise,” the Lady added reluctantly; she didn’t want to sound disingenuous, but of course, she did.

            “I beg to differ, madam,” Bilbo smiled saccharinely, as he clasped both hands in front of him. “You may not have used the actual word ‘promise’ but the promise was implied nonetheless.”

            “YOU BOTH ARE NOTHING MORE OR LESS THAN LIARS!” Thorin raged. His fury was nearing uncontrollable.

            “We have never lied to you!” Lord Mahal yelled back.

            “Elf-shit!” Thorin spat out. “You created Ones for you children! BILBO IS MY ONE!   And yet, after all we have endured you would deny me my One for all eternity?!”

            “I never created Ones!” Lord Mahal pointed out, for what seemed like the thousandth time—which it probably was. “That is a mythos that Dwarrow invented themselves!”

            “SO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU'RE FILLED WITH NOTHING BUT LIES!” Thorin countered.

            Lord Mahal growled. “I CANNOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN PEOPLES MISCONCEPTIONS!”    

            “THEY ARE YOUR CREATIONS!” Thorin roared. “YOU ARE OUR MAKER! YOU ARE NO FATHER, NO GOD! YOU ARE BUT A WORTHLESS, HONORLESS, ELF-LOVING, HEARTLESS BASTARD!”

            Thorin stormed off, crashing through the doors to The Halls of Mahal so that they bounced off the passageway walls. The echoing of Thorin’s denouncements and curses switched to Khuz-dul, which was a sign that Thorin’s rage was only going to continue to build.

            “Bilbo,” Lady Yavanna said imploringly. “You must make Thorin see reason.”

            Bilbo bestowed the lady a cocked eyebrow, answering sweetly, “I must do nothing.”

            “But surely, you must know—”

            “Know what?” Bilbo asked innocently, which was the first warning sign of his own growing anger. “That Thorin speaks the truth? That both yourself and your husband are nothing more than deceivers, only out-matched by Sauron himself?”

            Lady Yavanna hung her head and whispered, tiredly, “Bilbo that is unfair.”

            “Unfair?” Bilbo repeated sarcastically. “Like having two beings suffer and endure pain and war and madness, just to fulfill the designs of others in the world, and then deny them their love … the one bright thing in all their heartache … for all eternity? Is that what you mean by ‘unfair?’ Because really, you can’t _possibly_ believe that you having to endure our frustration, unhappiness and anger, is _so much_ worse than what Thorin and I have had to endure? Could you?”

            Lady Yavanna sighed; she knew what was coming next; guilt and martyrdom. “Bilbo, please—”

            “Oh, no,” Bilbo said, shrugging and pretending to be resigned, “I believe that once again, it is clear how little you think of us. We are _nothing_ compared to your petty plans and infantile schemes. We are only your children. What should we matter in the end? We only completed and carried out your ambiguous and rather soul-breaking quests, just so that you, yourselves, would not have to soil your hands in your own dirty work.”

            They all turned when Thorin’s enraged, thundering roar was heard to echo out of the Halls of Mahal, followed closely by an anvil as it came flying out of the doorway to careen off the polished walls and gleaming floor; cracking and gouging out huge chucks wherever it hit. Bilbo just stood there serenely, his eyes following the anvil’s path as if watching a lazy bumblebee, sidestepping it gracefully as the anvil skidded to a halt at the Lord’s and Lady’s feet.

            Mandos snickered to himself, even as he waved a hand and the walls and floor repaired themselves; Lady Yavanna stood and stared, gaping, at the anvil in front of her, while her husband looked down and said, in a rather small, hurt voice, “That was my favorite anvil.”

            “I’M SURE,” Thorin came stomping back, “THAT YOU CAN CREATE ANOTHER ONE! You’re a God, are you not? You can do anything; _EXCEPT GRANT YOUR CHILDREN THEIR RIGHTFUL PLACES BY THEIR LOVER’S SIDE_!”

            “Indeed,” Bilbo said gently as he reached out and began to brush off Thorin’s tunic of the dust and dirt that had settled there during his Dwarf’s tirade through Mahal’s halls.

            Both Lord Mahal and Lady Yavanna looked as if they were about to argue Thorin’s point, but at that moment there was a blinding surge of light.

            From the white lit door, stepped a being so bathed in brilliance that it was impossible to say if it was a man or a woman, young or old, one thing or another. All the Valar in the room, bowed their heads to the newcomer, while Thorin and Bilbo remained obstinately upright. Slowly the light receded and before them stood a clean-shaven being that was androgynous in appearance. Even discerning age of the being was impossible; only two things were assured; the first was the being’s wisdom—which radiated like heat from a hearth—and the other was the being’s name; Eru, ‘The One.’

            “Do I detect a problem?” Eru’s voice was calm, neutral and nondescript; neither male nor female, high or low, amused or angry.

            After a quick look towards the subjects of her statement, Lady Yavanna said, “Thorin and Bilbo are unhappy."

            “So I gather,” Eru replied.

            “We have tried to reason with them,” Lord Mahal stated with a very put-upon tone.

            “NOTHING OF THIS SITUATION IS REASONABLE!” Thorin ground out to his maker.

            “Not _acceptable_ , more accurately,” Bilbo quipped dryly, just loud enough to be heard, as he finished his cleaning of Thorin’s tunic. “Certainly nothing we've heard in all these years that we would consider acceptable, at any rate.”

            “Quite right, beloved,” Thorin said, turning his head and planting a kiss on Bilbo’s curly head.

            “In all these long, tedious centuries,” Bilbo continued on, “We have had to endure the same tiresome excuses for our unreasonable separation, the same empty promises and failed attempts at correcting said separation, and our frustrating and, frankly, heartbreaking disappointment when each and every attempt has only lead us right back to square one! It’s insufferable!”

            Eru’s face was a perfect mask, no emotion, condoning or condemning, was seen in his eyes, read about his lips, or uttered in voice or seen in gesture. Yet, both Thorin and Bilbo would swear later that a smile played there discreetly.

            “Can I surmise that it is your very natures,” Eru finally said, “that prevent you both residing together in the afterlife, which are the cause of your disconcertion?”

            “Thorin is a Dwarf,” Lord Mahal stated.

            “Bilbo is a Hobbit,” Lady Yavanna commented.

            “Well spotted,” Thorin and Bilbo said in unison.

            “Only Dwarfs can reside in the Halls of Mahal,” Eru said lightly. “And only Hobbits and Ents may retire to the Green Lady’s Ever Green Fields and Eternal Forest.”

            “Yes, thank you,” Bilbo snarked, “I think we have established that! I mean, after …” Bilbo turned to Thorin, confused. “How many lives has it been now?”

            “Sixty-seven and a half,” Thorin commented quickly and precisely.

            “Sixty-seven and … _a half_?” Eru repeated, bemused.

            “Yes. A half.” Bilbo turned and shot a glare at Lord Mahal and Lady Yavanna. “Thank you _so much_ for that, by the way.” Bilbo’s tone was anything but thankful.

            “Those two,” Thorin hooked a thumb towards his maker and his lady, “thought it would be cute to send us back as twins—”

            “In the middle of a cholera outbreak,” Bilbo groused out.

            “—and poor Bilbo didn’t make it past the first week of life!”

            “We didn’t know!” Lord Mahal shouted tiredly; this was an old grievance.

            “Thank goodness for that influenza epidemic,” Thorin added quietly.

            “Thorin finally joined me at that time,” Bilbo stated sounded relieved, as if it had just happened. “He was ten.”

            “How many lives ago was that?” Eru asked.

            “Forty-three,” Thorin stated, just as quick as the previous time.

            “I see,” Eru looked over at Mahal and Yavanna who, both, shrugged and shook their heads.

            “We were trying our best,” Lady Yavanna said.

            “Honestly,” Bilbo said, folding his arms across his chest and huffing out a sigh. “The forms we have had to suffer; children, lovers, siblings, adults, men, enemies, _women_ … I never want to have to wear a corset again!” Apparently one particular time was too much for Bilbo, if his eye roll was read correctly.

            “You were lovely, though,” Thorin said, with all seriousness.

            “Thank you, dearest,” Bilbo said. “But that really doesn’t ease the memory.”

            Thorin just nodded; this was another old disaster that didn’t need to be discussed again.

            “I can understand your frustrations,” Eru said, turning to the Dwarf and Hobbit but addressing Thorin. “But as your maker and his lady have pointed out, your very natures, a Hobbit of The Shire and a Dwarf of Mahal, are the real issues here.”

            “So,” Thorin growled out, “in other words, what you're saying is, we’re doomed.”

            “What I am saying,” Eru clarified, “is that there is little to be done.”

            “AH, HA!” Bilbo shouted, pointing a finger at Eru. His outburst so sudden that the other Valar and Thorin actually startled; not Eru though. “There we have it!”

            “What do you mean, beloved,” Thorin was confused, as were everyone else, except, again, Eru.

            “Eru said, ‘ _little to be done,_ ’” Bilbo continued on, staring at Eru and smirking. “That is a far cry from _nothing_ to be done. There is a way and Eru knows it! Am I correct?”

            Eru, apparently, could not stop a sly smile from forming. “Yes.”

            “There we go,” Bilbo said with a triumphant grin. “There is the cause and solution to our dilemma; we’ve been turning to the wrong Gods.” Bilbo made a dismiss wave at Mahal and Yavanna before gesturing back to Eru. “We should have gone to the source of all things.”

            Thorin, however was not so happy with this turn of events. “Why do I have a feeling there is a catch to what you offer?”

            “I haven’t offered anything,” Eru said quietly. “Not yet. But you are correct; there would be … conditions and consequences discussed before I would do anything.”

            Thorin pulled Bilbo to him, instinctively and protectively, before speaking. “Tell us your terms.”

            Eru smiled again. “As it was stated, you both are, at the very heart of yourselves, a Hobbit and Dwarf … it is your very natures, your essence, your souls, that bind you to those forms. What you need is to have your natures … tweaked, changed slightly for the rebirth to work. What you must understand is only one being can do that.”

            “You,” Bilbo said as Thorin nodded.

            “Exactly,” Eru agreed. “As good intentioned as your Gods have been, they cannot change your souls because I created them. Even Mahal, who created the Dwarrow race, only created your bodies, he could not give you life, a soul; only I could. And Lady Yavanna, couldn’t make Ents and Hobbits, she had to ask me to do that for her. As such, they will never be able to change your souls. That is why, no matter how many times they have, or would continue, to send you back, you will always return here as the Hobbit and Dwarf you were made to be. But I can change that.”

            “Now why didn’t we think of that,” Lord Mahal asked, scratching his head.

            “Why _indeed_ ,” Bilbo said in a clipped voice, which only made Thorin chuckle.

            “I could send you back,” Eru pushed on. “I can change who you are, rebirth you into the race of Men and thus, when you finally pass on again, you will be allowed to pass on to where the souls of Men dwell in the afterlife and finally be together.”

            “But you still haven’t told us the catch,” Thorin said with suspicion.

            Eru took a breath then stated what no one else had realized. “Because your souls were not changed, in each of your previous reincarnations, you were always destined to find the other; adult, child, sibling, lovers, friends, enemies, even a change in gender … none of that mattered because you were always going to find the other. However, if I change you, nothing will be predestined; there will no surety of finding and loving the other. And … if you fail to find each other, since your souls have been changed, you will arrive here and proceed on to where the Men dwell, without knowledge or care of the one you loved.”

            Eru’s words sank in quickly and Bilbo turned to Thorin, almost alarmed.

            “You both must decide and agree to this,” Eru said. “Once I set the stars in motion, there will be no turning back.”

            “I’m scared,” Bilbo whispered, clinging tightly to Thorin’s tunic.

            “As am I, beloved,” Thorin confessed, holding his Hobbit closer. “But, I have waited far too long to be with you always, and I do not know how much longer I can endure this unending cycle of madness without you.”

            Bilbo nodded; he understood completely.

            “To help ease the way,” Eru stated gently, “I will also send back a great number of your family and friends so that the world you knew will be … recreated, in a way; this may help the two of you find each other again.”

            But Bilbo and Thorin shook their heads.

            “We couldn’t ask them to risk such a thing!” Bilbo said.

            “It would be unfair of us,” Thorin agreed.

            “It is no risk to them,” Eru countered. “Only the two of you will be changed at your core. The rest will simply enjoy another life and then return here the Hobbits, Dwarrow and Men they were before and resume their respective afterlives.”

            Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other, each looking upon the one that they loved more than anything in the world or beyond.

            “I will find you again,” Bilbo whispered.

            “Nothing will keep me from you,” Thorin replied, leaning down to press a warm, loving kiss to his Hobbit’s mouth before pulling back. “Nothing.”

            Bilbo turned in Thorin’s arms and addressed Mahal and Yavanna. “Despite all that has transpired I do thank you for your attempts.”

            Typical Bilbo; he earned a gracious smile from Yavanna and respectful nod form Mahal. Both Mandos and Eru were impressed.

            “Thorin?” Lord Mahal awaited his child’s statement.

            “I _don’t_ thank you,” Thorin spat out with a growl. “Had you two half the brains of an Orc, you would have figured out long ago that Eru was the only one to help us!”

            Typical Thorin; neither Mahal nor Yavanna were surprised. Although Mandos and Eru were amused; one outwardly and the other hiding his amusement completely.

            The two lovers turned to Eru and with a nod from each, he began.

            Turning his face to the ceiling, Eru raised a hand above his head; the ceiling vanished; the stars shining above. With a voice as deep as the Earth, Eru began to recite a slow rumbling incantation that none understood but was clear to all; he was calling the universe into his power. The stars wheeled over head and, in fact, began to spin around a single point, a whirlpool in space. Both Bilbo and Thorin began to rise, as if floating on the currents of the air, only their clasped hands keeping them together and as they rose, their forms started to glow and sparkle as if filling with starlight itself. Suddenly they were whisked into the whirlpool and were gone.

            “Is that it?” Mahal asked casually, as if he had seen this very thing before.

            “No,” Eru said, turning to the Lord and his Lady. “I am not so cruel as to give them so little chance.” Eru waved his free hand and from the very swirling void that Thorin and Bilbo had disappeared into, a beam of light came forth, and before the four Valar, stood none other than Gandalf the White.

            “You called for me, my Lord,” Gandalf bowed to Eru, who in turn, nodded gently.

            “I did,” Eru said with a smile. “I have one last task for you, if you would be so kind.”

            “As you wish, my Lord,” Gandalf said.

            “It would seem that your old friends, Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins, will be returning once more to the mortal world.”

            “I see.”

            “They will be changed so that they may, at some point in the future, return here and reside together in the dwelling of Men.”

            “I understand.” Truly, of all the Maiar, Gandalf understood the workings of death, rebirth and eternity better than the rest.

            “I wish for you to go back as well,” Eru said outright. “See if you can … help them, find their way.”

            Gandalf smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

            Eru actually laughed at that. “I was sure you would find it amusing.”

            “Indeed,” Gandalf did love to scheme.

            “And while you are there,” Eru said with a slightly raised brow, “you can take care of that little problem we talked about before.”

            Gandalf took a breath and released it slowly before sheepishly answering, “Yes, my Lord.”

            “Good,” Eru was pleased.

            With a wave of his hand, Gandalf quickly changed to pure light and was sent into the swirling void above. A multitude of other starry souls, the friends and families of Bilbo and Thorin, appeared above and entered the void as well. Finally, it was done and the stars slowed and stopped, returning to their position in the blackness of space and the ceiling above the Hall of Mandos returned as if nothing had ever happened.

            Mahal picked up his anvil, bid Eru and Mandos farewell, and returned to his Halls along with his wife, who wished Eru and Mandos a fair day.

            All was quiet for a moment after the doors to the Halls of Mahal closed before Mandos could not hold back his own questions.

            “Are you sure you did the right thing?” He asked Eru. The question was without censure or malice; just a question out of curiosity.

            “I believe I have,” Eru stated with a small smile. “Finally.”

            “Finally?” Mandos narrowed his eyes and looked Eru, seeing something there he hadn’t noticed before. “You have been aware of this situation for a long time, haven’t you?”

            Eru made no reply, only gave a near-imperceptible shrug.

            “Why have you not acted before?”

            “It was amusing to watching Mahal and Yavanna stumble in their attempts.”

            Mandos laughed. “So why did you act now?” He truly wanted to know.

            Eru stilled and his face smoothed out. He seemed to turn many things over in his mind, although few would be able to read such an expression on his face.

            “Because, they have suffered enough,” Eru said softly.

            “But you said that there was no guarantee; you made them no promise.”

            “True, I did not” Eru agreed. “But do you really think I would move the stars for them, only to leave it all to chance?”

            Mandos released a deep throated laugh. “You old meddler! You just wanted to see if they would take the risk!”

            Eru didn’t reply; he didn’t need to. Mandos spoke the truth.

            “Why then?”

            “Because their decision proved one thing to me,” Eru stated. “Their love is true and enduring; strong and implacable. It was time to give them that which they have long deserved.”

            “Peace?” Mandos wondered.

            Eru shook his head. “Happiness.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those that don't know, the antechamber they are in are for The Halls of Mandos - the Valar in charge of judging the Dead. If someone dies and it is not their time, he can send them back to the mortal world (door number 2). The two portals with doors lead to The Halls of Mahal (where the Dwarfs go) and to The Ever Green Fields of Yavanna (my own invention). The last two doors lead to Eru's domain and to where the dead of Men (the race, not the gender) go - Tolkien himself stated that only Eru knows where Men go when they die. The last door is for The Halls of Mandos himself. This is where Elves that die and those judged not to move on go to wait until the breaking of the world. (Only Elves that elect to sail over the waters are welcomed back in Valinor).


End file.
